International Crisis
by frozenpixie
Summary: What dire enemy could possibly be holding Germany and Italy hostage in a bathroom? Well, here's a clue: it has eight legs, and rhymes with schmider. Slight Ger/Ita, guest appearances from other 'helpful' nations. Possible crack.


**Ahaha, I was looking through my memory stick and I found this! It cracked me up, even if I wrote it way before I got into Hetalia properly so some of the character choices are a little strange. Why Austria? Who knows? But I hope you enjoy it anyway! Please review, it's my first Hetalia fic!**

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"Germany! Germany! Help me!" The pleading voice of Germany's semi-permanent and semi-uninvited roommate roused him from pleasant dreams about strangling France with a string of wurst, and he grumbled to himself as he pulled himself upright. It was rare for Italy to wake up before him, let alone leave their (unfortunately, he no longer felt able to describe it as 'his') bed. He suspected that the slight throbbing of his temples indicative of rather too much beer the evening before might have something to do with it. Since the Italian had been unaccountably fond of the name and appearance of the 'Virgin Tequila Sunrise' served at the bar, he had clearly managed to avoid the debilitating effects of America's generosity when it came to buying another round.

"Germany!" The always slightly whiny voice had now reached new levels of pleading, and Germany cursed as he swung himself out of bed. Since the situation sounded at least a decibel too urgent for him to have time to put on his full uniform, he settled with pulling on his regimental army boots and sticking his sleeves through his khaki blazer before walking hastily in search of Italy's continued pleas. It didn't take him too long before he located the helpless nation in the bathroom.

"If he has managed to get his curl tied to the shower head again, he can deal with it himself," he muttered under his breath as he clicked the door open and entered, looking around immediately for the source of trouble.

"Germany!" He was greeted immediately with a relief-filled wail, and before he could get his bearings, a towel-clad Italy had dragged him across the room. Whilst Italy immediately hopped back onto his refuge on the toilet lid, his arms wrapped around a bewildered Germany's neck as his mantra of 'Germany, Germany' continued.

"What, or are you intent on wasting my time?" the grumpy German barked out, acutely aware of the bare, skinny arms around his neck.

"Germany, you're strong and brave. Please, save me. Its huuuuge," Italy wailed, redoubling his surprisingly vice-like grip on Germany's neck.

"What is huge?" Germany asked, trying to retain some semblance of order.

"The _spider_!"

"Was?" Immediately, Germany was just as panicked as Italy. "Where?"

"Over there, over there!" One arm pulled away to indicate wildly towards the vicinity of the door. Germany's bright blue eyes searched swiftly, and found the offending arachnid hovering menacingly between door and bath on the end of a long, sticky string.

"Gluargh!" A sound Germany would later describe as a manly bellow escaped from his lips, and he somehow found himself sharing the negligible space on top of the toilet lid with a still-babbling Italy. Somehow, it was his arms which had now found their way around his slight companion's shoulders.

Now, Germany was a brave and pragmatic nation. He had held his own in many fierce battles, and against many strong opponents. He had borne long periods of exile and ridicule with dignity and fortitude. He had faced off against battalions of well-equipped soldiers armed with nothing more than his wits and a tin of sardines. Not one nation could justify calling him a coward. But there was something about the swollen, malicious presence of the hairy-legged fiend dangling with evil intent just inches from where he had been standing just moments ago, which threw all of that out of the window.

"It's gigantic, gottverdammt," he exclaimed in horror.

"I know, I know," Italy wailed in acknowledgement. "Kill it, Germany!"

"I don't want to go near it!" If he had been in less of a panic, Germany would never have admitted such a thing to Italy, even if threatened with England's cooking. As it was, however, all rationality had fled the building, and was probably hovering somewhere around Japan's house to join his other calm and dignified qualities.

"But what are we going to do?" Italy cried in horror. Germany always knew what to do in this sort of situation.

"We can just stay like this until- until-" Germany faltered, his mind reeling with possibilities each less inviting than the previous. Everything he could think of involved him being on the other side of the door. But-

"Ah," he exclaimed, so loudly that Italy almost toppled off their perch, grabbing Germany's lapels to keep his balance. "See, Italy. Watch closely. This is the German way of being prepared for all eventualities. In my blazer pocket, I have a pager. Can you reach around and draw it out without dropping it?"

Italy's hands scrabbled down the front of Germany's open blazer and snaked around to search both pockets. Germany tried not to liken the situation to being frisked by a very sexy American woman last time he had visited America's house, and cleared his throat to distract himself.

"Uwaa!" Italy's wail, and the following clatter, told him that the pager had, indeed, been dropped. "Germany made me jump."

They both watched in horror as the little black ray of hope skittered across the floor. Its movement must have disturbed the spider, because its crooked black legs suddenly flexed, and it dropped another few inches.

This time, Germany would later claim that it was Italy who had screamed like a girl, and he himself had remained stoic. Italy would later agree to this, because he knew what Germany could be like when he got that look in his eyes.

The upside of two thirds of the Axis Alliance exercising their lungs in harmony was that a very peeved looking Austria poked his nose around the door, teddy bear still tucked under one arm. At the sight which met his eyes, one aristocratic eyebrow rose.

"I think it might be more delicate of me not to ask," he commented dryly, "but since I am a freeloader I've already forfeited most of my dignity, so I sort of want to bring both of you down with me. What is going on?"

"Sp-sp-sp-" Italy stuttered. Germany regained a little of his presence of mind.

"You! Austria! I forbid you to enter this room. Please summon a force. No, wait, on second thought don't let anyone know of this situation. It's top secret!"

"Is this some sort of role-play?" Austria hazarded, observing the army regulation boots at the end of Germany's boxer-clad legs, and the way Italy's arms were around his waist, while Germany's own were hooked around the Italian's bare shoulders.

"It most certainly is not," Germany barked. "It is an international crisis! Austria, if you kill that spider, I will let you play the piano after nine o'clock on weekends."

"Ohh, no can do." Austria backed up a whole ten paces, so that Italy and Germany could no longer see him. "Spiders really give me the heebie-jeebies, to coin America's phrase. You're on your own, friend."

"You traitor," Germany groaned.

"Not to worry," Austria's voice floated into the bathroom, sounding alarmingly peppy. "I really would like a photograph of the great Deutschland looking so helpless. I'll give France a call. Maybe he'll help."

"No, I beg of you," Germany said, panic rising once again. "Anybody but that arsloch. Even England, seriously. No, wait, Japan. Call Japan. He can get rid of spiders."

"You're right, he is a bit of an oddball, I bet they don't bother him," Austria's voice considered, his amusement evident. "But you're right, England would be more fun."

"No, please…" Germany groaned, cursing himself for even mentioning the slightly sadistic Brit.

Luckily, at this point, Italy did what might have been the first useful thing he had ever done for Germany.

"Uwaa, it's coming," he hollered as the spider dropped another inch. "What if it crawls away into the rest of the house? We won't know where it's gone."

An aura of hesitation was apparent from the direction in which Austria had retreated. Apparently, he was considering this eventuality too, and his room was right next to the bathroom.

"Perhaps I will help you," he decided. "I am, after all, a generous nation."

"Pfft," said Germany under his breath.

"Fine, I'll get Japan for you," Austria huffed. The sound of his footsteps clicking down the hallway at an accelerated rate left Germany weak with relief.

"This is great, isn't it, Germany?" Italy beamed, his mood much improved by the prospect of help, and his trademark amiable grin back in place. "Perhaps all the nations will help out and we will have world peace."

"Eh, sure," Germany muttered. He couldn't really muster the authority to argue when he was pressed up so close to Italy wearing only half an outfit.

"Then we can all eat pasta, and tell each other stories," Italy yammered on happily. Germany, over the top of the tousled brown head, rolled his eyes and sighed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the not-so-mysterious curl quiver slightly at the soft gush of air, and Italy stiffen slightly against him.

"Ah, sorry," he said hastily, turning his head away abruptly, feeling his face heating up.

"Uh- mm," Italy agreed into Germany's shoulder. The atmosphere got just a little bit more awkward. Although Germany was not talkative as a rule, this silence was somehow unbearable.

"Es tut mir leid," he said gruffly, head still carefully averted.

"Ve?" Italy tilted his face up, confused.

"I could not save you this time," Germany said reluctantly. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, that's ok," Italy's face relaxed into his usual happy smile. "Having Germany here makes it less scary that if I was on my own."

"Ah- um, that is-" Germany's blush increased, and he wished he'd left the silence as it was. Italy, however, seemed oblivious, so at least half of the bomb was diffused.

"Still in there?" Austria's uncharacteristically peppy voice made them both turn their heads, Italy in hope, Germany in a cross between relief and annoyance.

"You took your time," he grumbled. "Is Japan with you?"

"Ah, well, you see, the thing is," Austria said coyly.

"What?" Germany was immediately seized with suspicion.

"Well, I couldn't get hold of Japan," Austria admitted. "I sort of thought about calling France, but I thought he'd probably just take one look at the two of you and join you, so…"

"So?" Germany prompted nervously. "Tell me you brought someone, ja?"

"Well I did, but…"

"It isn't Romano, is it?" Germany asked with dread. That guy would be even more useless than a chocolate revolver.

"No, I tried to think of someone who might be able to get rid of a spider without screaming like a girl," Austria said, sounding slightly anxious.

"I did not scream like a girl," Germany clarified. "I simply-"

"Well, it's hardly important," Austria dismissed. "Anyway, I tried Greece, but he said it was too early and he had to feed his cats. America and England are both in a meeting right now, or at least that's what they _said. _So the only person who I could get hold of was…"

Germany tried to exchange a worried look with Italy, but the brunet seemed to have spaced out a little, and was examining the regalia on Germany's blazer. Giving up, he craned his head to see outside the door. What he saw made his face drain of all blood.

"Da, it's just like old times," Russia beamed, tapping his metal pipe against his hand.

"How is this like old times?" Germany demanded.

"Well, with you at my mercy," Russia clarified, his smile never fading. "You want I should kill it?"

"Yes, yes," Italy nodded eagerly. Russia made no move, still standing and smiling his slightly creepy smile.

"What will I get in return?" Russia sighed, half to himself, it seemed.

"I'm not giving you money," Germany said at once.

"Did I ask for a bribe?" Russia's eyes widened innocently in hurt.

"Then get to it," Germany ground out in frustration. His legs were starting to ache from standing in such an awkward position for so long.

"But now that you mention it, I suppose I could use some discounts on those lovely cars which are so popular with my people," Russia sighed wistfully.

Germany scowled. "Fine," he allowed.

Russia still did not move.

"But still, my house is so bare and quiet compared to this house," he sighed again. "Although it might gain a little colour if this episode were to become known…"

"What else?" Germany asked, a little desperately.

"I thought perhaps my dear friend Italy might want to help me brighten it up with a few artworks," Russia smiled.

"It- it would be my pleasure," Italy quavered.

"Then, I will return the kind favour," Russia said. Both trapped nations sagged a little.

"What are you waiting for?" Germany asked a few moments later when Russia still refused to budge. "I don't even have anything else you want."

"But I seem to be deriving some sort of pleasure from watching the two of you in such a comical position," Russia commented. "Austria, did you find what I requested?"

"…yes." Austria's reluctant voice was only just audible from behind Russia's bulk.

"Then, say cheese," Russia instructed mildly. Germany grimaced as the flash accentuated his hangover. A few inches lower, Italy smiled obligingly, and raised two fingers in a cheery 'v'.

"Quite beautiful," Russia said in satisfaction. "Now, please cover your ears. Oh, I see you can't. Then, brace yourselves."

"What are you-" Germany began, but his sentence was cut short as the usually still and tranquil Russia let loose on the offending critter with his metal pipe. The clanging could be heard all the way to Switzerland.

A week later, France was in a very good mood. That morning, with his freshly delivered croissants, had come a small envelope addressed to him in Russia's slanted Latin script. Frowning, he had opened the letter to find a small note, and a photograph. Taking the note out first, he had read:

_To my dear France,_

_I thought it only right that you too should enjoy this rare opportunity to bring our nations closer together. _

_From Russia, with love._

Even more mystified, and not a little anxious, France drew out the photograph, and flipped it over with trepidation. His face froze for a moment, then spread into a very wide, evil grin.

"A- ahaha- ahahahaha," he laughed. "Oh, this will make a very good screensaver for the next summit meeting."


End file.
